


The Big Bang

by musiclvr1112



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU Yeah AUgust (Miraculous Ladybug), Aged Up, Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst, Apocalypse, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, in their last year of schooling, ml au yeah august, they're about 18 years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 14:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15731403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclvr1112/pseuds/musiclvr1112
Summary: AU Yeah August Day 18: Circus AUTwo unlikely classmates find themselves stuck together in the wake of the end of the world.





	The Big Bang

**Author's Note:**

> I've literally had this AU in my head for two years; I can't believe I'm finally posting it. I hope you enjoy it <3

Day 363 since The Big Bang; almost a full year since the world had been turned on its head. Nathaniel marked the tally down in his dirty, water-stained sketch book before setting the old relic of the past on his bedside tray table.

Coming from the far side of camp, he could hear Jillian’s snare drum begin a steady morning march, signaling the beginning of another day at the circus. He wasn’t sure what the date was, but he knew it was a Thursday, which meant getting the new campground all set up for the show. And seeing as how it was the one year anniversary of The Big Bang, he was sure this week’s show was going to go all out.

Translation: It was going to be a busy day.

Jillian was just starting to march down their alley when he heard an audible groan next to him followed by angry muttering muffled through a pillow.

“I swear to God I’m going to take those drumsticks and shove them straight up Jillian’s pretty little—,”

“Hey, look who’s waking up on their own today,” he decided to butt in. The blonde next to him rolled onto her back and glared at him with narrowed blue eyes that were every bit as beautiful as they were deadly. He smiled in response and reached out to brush some hair back from her forehead. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

She scrunched up her nose in an adorable frown. “As if. I’m way more of a Kida than an Aurora.”

“Does Kida count?”

She sat up immediately, stabbing her index finger into his chest. “Say that one more time, I fucking dare you.”

He laughed whole heartedly and took her hand in his, lowering it down to his lap. “Now you’re awake.” As Chloé rolled her eyes, he noticed that her necklace was backwards, with the pendant hanging behind her shoulder. He moved it back in place with his free hand.

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too,” he replied, and with a quick peck on her cheek, he hopped out of bed. “Now get up; it’s a big day.”

The tent canvas was cold under his feet as he padded over to the corner of the room where his backpack waited. Chloé emitted a long whine as she stretched, pressing her palms into her back. He heard exactly four pops before she sighed and tossed the blankets aside.

He was pulling on his work jeans when her ice cold fingers settled gently on his back. “Today’s Thursday, isn’t it?” she asked in dismay as she rifled through her duffle bag.

“Yeah, it is.”

With a long sigh, she pulled out a tank top and threw it on. “And it’s the anniversary isn’t it?”

“In two days, yeah.”

“A Big Bang show…” She kept looking through her clothes for a clean pair of pants as he pulled an oversized t-shirt on. “The guests are going to be so fucking emotional.”

“The performers are going to be emotional,” he added.

 _“I’m_ going to be emotional.” Her face pinched up in that dissatisfied frown of hers again. “Fuck.”

“Wha’ff uff?” he asked, a hair tie between his teeth as he pulled his hair back. She turned her frown towards him and lifted her last clean pair of pants up for him to see—her old stained white skinny jeans. “Ah.” With his hair nicely held back in a ponytail, he reached out and settled a palm on her head, pulling her in to place a kiss on her forehead. “We’ll do laundry tonight.”

“That means I still have to wear these today,” she whined as she stepped into the restricting clothing. “I can’t believe I used to wear shit like this every day.”

“To be fair, your legs were skinnier back then.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

He rolled his eyes with an amused smile. “You know what I mean. You had chicken legs. Now you have sexy dancer muscles.”

“For your information,” she grunted as she buttoned up the pants, “I was always sexy. You were just blind.”

He chuckled. “You got me there.”

While Chloé began tearing a brush through her hair, he went over to the curtain door of the tent and peeked outside to see people already up and about getting their acts ready. “Yep, it’s already bustling out there.” He turned back to see her finishing up her signature high ponytail and offered his hand as she approached. “Ready?”

She interlocked her fingers with his and squeezed.

“Ready.”

* * *

Day 3 of the apocalypse. Nathaniel decided he’d best start a tally at the back of his sketch book, otherwise he knew he would lose track of time far too soon. So much of life as he knew it was already abandoned and thrown away; he at least wanted to hold onto the date if he could.

_The last normal day was the 12 th of March, 2020. On the 13th at approximately 3:04 pm began the apocalypse—that’s Day Zero. I should write that down…_

At the very forefront of the tally, Nathaniel doodled a little mushroom cloud and wrote “0” inside of it. He decided to add “13/3/2020” on top of that, so that if he ever lost track of the date in the future he could do the math.

_That makes today the 16 th of March, 2020._

With a sigh, he flipped back to the page he had been working on, depicting various sketches of flowers. Except they were really all the same flower, just growing. It was the same flower that sat near his foot that very moment. An unimpressive flower, just some weed of some sort. But a flower nonetheless that had not been there the previous night.

Yesterday, he had thought he was going crazy when the sun had risen and the grass seemed longer—much longer than it should have grown overnight. But now he knew he wasn’t imagining it. Throughout the night, he had periodically looked up and drawn out a basic sketch of the flower. It was a mere bud when the sun had gone down. Now it was fully grown. Days, maybe even weeks of growth. Overnight.

Add that to the list of things happening at the end of the world.

The artist’s head rolled back, thumping into the tree behind him. The trunk was hardly a comfortable back rest, but it sufficed. He was exhausted. Not tired, _exhausted._ Spiritually and emotionally and physically and every other way a person could possibly feel run down.

At least half of that was _her_ fault.

He peeked an eye open to look at the girl sleeping on the dirt in front of him, curled up with muscles tense, clutching his jacket close to her body. Her white pants had an allover dusty hue now, with splatters of ash, mud, and grass stains here and there. Her skin was likewise covered in smudges of dirt and sweat along with the remnants of three-day-old makeup, and her hair, while still golden, was greasy, tangled, and dirty.

He laughed bitterly to himself. She had never looked better.

In fact, lying there, sleeping— _not talking_ —Nathaniel might even go so far as to say she might be somewhat attractive on some obscure apocalyptic level.

Then her eyes opened.

_Fuck._

Chloé blinked a couple of times, eyes slowly focusing on him, before her face pinched up into a disgusted and dissatisfied grimace. “What time is it?” she asked as she sat up.

He glared at her, anger suddenly swelling in him. “The fuck makes you think I know?” They had already established _two days ago_ that neither of them wore watches, and their phones were nothing more than fragile bricks. What did she think had happened while she was asleep, that he had made a sun dial?

She glared right back. “It was just a fucking question, Kurtzberg, no need to bite my damn head off.”

They stared each other down, both stubborn and fed up and exhausted. The tensions weren’t new by any means—not even a product of the apocalypse—but they had been growing rapidly over the last few days. He was just about ready to push her off the next cliff at this point.

After several moments of cold war level staring, Nathaniel broke the wordless challenge and leaned his head back again, choosing to swallow his anger for the moment. “The sun’s been up for a little while,” he said, voice still hard. “If I had to guess, I would say it’s about 7 or 8.”

Chloé stretched, bending her arms behind her to press them into her back in a grotesque formation that stuck her chest out in front of her. That was the second time he’d seen her do that, and somehow the cracking sounds her back made disgusted him even more now that he expected them. “Do you want to sleep a bit before we—?”

“No,” he cut her off, stuffing his sketchbook into his backpack beside him. “Let’s get going.” He stood and slung the backpack over a shoulder, but she just sat there, ass still planted on the ground and staring up at him with a stupid scowl. “What?”

“You really should sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Just an hour. I can take watch.”

“I’m not fucking tired, Chloé.”

“But you’ve barely slept since—,”

“Chloé, shut up!” he snapped. A short distance away, an animal scurried off into the bushes and a bird fled the scene. Then silence. “I’m not fucking sleeping,” he continued, lowering his voice but retaining the rigidity. “Now get up. We need to keep moving.”

She pursed her lips and glared at him, but stood a moment later. “Fine, whatever. Drop dead from exhaustion. See if I care.” She shoved his balled up jacket into his chest as she stalked past. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Day 19 of the apocalypse. Nathaniel carefully drew the next line in the tally on his mostly-dry and newly warped sketch book.

 _Day 19._ The first day in what seemed like forever—but was apparently less than three weeks—that Nathaniel had woken alone. Not just alone, but even in a bed. Well, a cot. Still, much more of a bed than the cold, hard ground.

Though he wasn’t entirely sure that getting up that morning counted as waking up.

 _The apocalypse hit on the 13 th of March 2020. That makes today the…first of April, 2020._ He bitterly chuckled to himself. It would be one hell of an April Fool’s joke if they chose to kick them out.

He slowly stopped chuckling and may have even paled a bit as he realized that they were literally circus people and for all he knew, they might actually do that.

He’d better be on his best behavior. And maybe try to keep Chloé on hers too.

…That meant he should probably find Chloé.

On that thought, Nathaniel stood from his cot and began pulling on his shoes. For well past an hour now he had been hearing all sorts of commotion outside, starting with someone playing their guitar obnoxiously loud all over camp and followed by the sounds of people running, sharing lively conversation, shouting directions to each other from across the campground, and even the occasional squawk or roar from what he hoped were _caged_ animals.

What sort of world had he and Chloé had stumbled into?

Nathaniel stood, and with a deep breath that did little to calm his nerves, the redhead pulled back the thick curtain separating him from the outside world.

“On your left!”

He hadn’t so much as taken a step forward when someone on a unicycle nearly ran him over. They wore jeans and a deceptively normal-looking dirt brown sweater. Perhaps the only tip off that they weren’t exactly _normal_ (other than the unicycle) was the long—like how did that not catch in their pedals _long_ —neon green and purple hair flowing on the wind behind them. The person waved their hand to him with a quick ‘thanks!’ as they sped past.

Well, at least no one around here would make fun of his red hair.

Checking both ways twice, Nathaniel finally stepped out from his tent then and tried to sift in with the multitude of people making up what seemed to be a steady foot traffic around the camp.

It seemed that everywhere he looked there was the strangest clash of the extraordinary and the mundane—just like the unicycle joker. He passed by two people _literally_ conversing by the water cooler, all the while one of them moved their arms about to cater to the _giant snake_ weaving its way around their body in various formations. One person walked by him, not even watching where they were going with their nose in a book, holding a leash with their right hand as if taking their pet on a walk like any other day. Except the pet on the other end of the leash was a _baby elephant_. Left and right there were wild, crazy hairstyles—every shape and color he could have ever imagined—under plain old hats you would buy at the mall, and people in t-shirts and jeans doing everything from juggling rubber chickens to twisting their own bodies into knots. The most _normal_ thing he even saw that morning was someone coiling a whip in their hands as they walked past.

When he finally found his way to the eating area to see a familiar head of long blonde hair waiting for him, an unexpected relief washed over him. He never thought he would be so happy to see Chloé in his life.

She looked up at him over the brim of her coffee mug as he sat opposite her at the small picnic table. He tried to offer a friendly smile, though he was about 70% sure it came out as more of an uncomfortable grimace than anything.

“Did you finally sleep?” she asked as soon as he sat down. He paused, more than a little surprised that that was the first thing she had to say to him.

He frowned and scratched the back of his head, glancing around them nervously. While there were some others sitting down and eating, it looked like most of the circus had already moved on from breakfast. There was thankfully no one close enough that he need worry about their conversation being overheard. “Not really.”

She frowned. “Did you at least try?”

He met her eyes again. While it certainly wasn’t the first time those cold blue jewels had ever zeroed in on him, he was pretty sure it _was_ the first time they had ever seemed concerned for him. He let his expression soften a bit.

“I did. Don’t worry.”

She rolled her eyes a moment later, and the familiarity of the gesture made him feel oddly comforted. “As if. It just annoyed me that you wouldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

She raised the cup to her lips again then and stared off in another direction, her free hand fidgeting with her necklace as she pretended she didn’t care. Somehow, her refusal to acknowledge that she thought about his well-being made him feel better than if she had admitted it. More like his Chloé, in a way. But not too much.

“Are you feeling alright?” he decided to ask. “You were shivering pretty bad last night. Any cold symptoms?”

The blonde scoffed as she set down her mug. “Please. No virus would dare touch my body,” she muttered. Nathaniel stared at her for a moment before dissolving into giggles as he realized that there wasn’t a single hint of sarcasm or even a joking tone in her voice; she had declared that sentence completely seriously.

She scowled at him. “What? I’m serious; I don’t get sick.”

“I believe you,” he said, laughter calming. “The way you said it was just funny, that’s all.”

That scowl stayed fixed on her face for another moment while she glared at him. Then her expression softened.

“I didn’t sleep either.”

“Being in a bed felt kind of weird,” he related.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. She stared down at the steam rising from her cup with a deep crease in her brow. Then in a quiet voice she added, “I don’t really think that’s what kept me from sleeping though.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, lowering his voice to match hers. She looked up at him in unease, then back down at her cup. She shook her head.

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

He watched her stare at the coffee with vacant eyes for a moment before leaning in slightly closer. “You’re not sure if we can trust them.” Those blue eyes carefully glanced around them before landing on him with a tight nod. “Honestly, neither am I.”

Her shoulders dropped the slightest bit in relief, but she didn’t say anything.

Nathaniel looked down and realized her knuckles were white as they clutched the mug in her hands. Slowly, he reached a hand out and very gently settled his fingers over hers. It wasn’t even that cold of a morning, but he couldn’t help but note how frigid she felt. Then he looked her straight in the eye.

“We stick together. You and I. Deal?”

If the previous night hadn’t yet stripped them of any of their animosity, it was gone then. Without even a moment’s hesitation, she nodded.

“We stick together.”

He offered a small smile, and this time it was met with one of her own, though it surely didn’t reach her uneasy eyes. Still, it was incredibly relieving to know he at least had her.

“Oh good, you’re both here!”

Nathaniel nearly jumped out of his skin as a loud, bubbly presence suddenly cast a shadow over their table. He and Chloé both sat up straight and turned to look up at the intruder standing next to them all of a sudden.

The woman they owed their lives to stood in her full glory wearing black leather pants and a red button up top under a black vest. Her long curly black hair lay unleashed about her head, barely tamed by the intermittent gold beads that decorated it, and a matching sharp line of gold eyeliner stood in bright contrast against her dark skin. Wrapping up the look was a red-lipped smile that was every bit as welcoming as her presence was daunting.

“Good morning, Genevieve,” he greeted.

“Morning,” Chloé mumbled.

“How did you sleep? I hope the cots were alright? Enough blankets? Weren’t too cold?” She placed a hand on each of their shoulders as she spoke and Nathaniel hoped he could learn to trust her if nothing else so he could feel comforted by the gesture.

“Everything was fine, thank you.”

“Good good. Well,” she sat down on the bench next to Nathaniel so that she was at eye level as she spoke, “hopefully we can start figuring out how the two of you will factor in here soon, but that’ll have to be postponed for today. You see, right now we’re setting up for our yearly April Fool’s celebration.” Her smile was wide as she explained. “While we’re usually only open to the public on the weekends, we love to go crazy on April first every year. Everyone throws a little spin on their act, and pulls the audience in even more than usual. Aaand, at the end of the night, when our guests have all gone home, we _party._ You’ll love it; just wait.”

Nathaniel stole a glance at Chloé to see her trying her best to smile, but she looked less than enthused about pretty much everything. He jumped in to cover. “It all sounds wonderful,” he said, hoping he sounded believable. “What would you like us to do?”

Genevieve was already waving him off before he could finish his question. “You two will start pulling your own weight tomorrow. Tonight, you are guests. I suggest you spend the day resting up, maybe getting to know your way around a little bit, and then tonight, just come have fun with us! Sound good?”

He could have sworn her eyes were sparkling as she smiled expectantly at them.

“Alright. Sounds good.”

* * *

Day 246 since The Big Bang. Though Nathaniel rarely kept track of the date anymore (it was just too much of a hassle to do all the math once the days started getting into bigger numbers), he knew exactly what day it was. Two weeks ago the circus had thrown a special Halloween show, and the previous night they had stayed up partying to celebrate the first Friday the 13th since _the_ Friday the 13 th, which made day 246 without a doubt, Saturday, the 14th of November.

He gazed down at the sleeping blonde next to him and wondered if she knew what day it was.

Nathaniel reached out and brushed Chloé’s hair back with gentle strokes. The long, heavy strands fell away from her neck, leaving it completely bare. It was an odd sight, even if her necklace had been broken for over a week by then. His mental image of the woman had included that classy little pendant since he could remember.

Last week when he had asked about it, she had merely shrugged, feigning nonchalance, and said the chain broke. She acted like it was no big deal, but after being as close to her as he was for so long, he could see right through it.

“Chloé,” he whispered, softly shaking her shoulder. “It’s time to get up.”

She whined and scrunched up her face before stuffing it into her pillow. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying,” he chuckled. “It’s time to get up.”

“Jane hasn’t ridden through camp playing that stupid trumpet yet.”

“Yeah, but today is special.”

“Why?”

“Because…it’s your birthday.”

The air around them stilled as the statement sunk in. Slowly, she turned, rolling onto her back and looking up at him with eyes that were completely awake, but sad.

“You knew?”

He gave her a soft smile and reached out to tuck some hair behind her ear. “All of Paris knew your birthday, Chloé.”

She grimaced the slightest bit. “Did you tell anyone?”

“No. I wasn’t sure if you wanted to celebrate.” He paused, watching the way pain slowly grew heavy in her expression. “Did you want to?”

She shook her head and he sighed in relief, though his worry only grew over the look she was wearing.

“So if we’re not celebrating, why do you want me to get up?”

“Because,” he leaned over to grab a small golden box from the tray table and handed it to her, “I got you something.”

She eyed the box—and him—suspiciously as she sat up and stretched her spine—two pops this morning.

Then he watched those blue eyes go wide in shock upon opening it.

“How did you…” she trailed off, staring at the necklace in amazement as she pulled it out—her own pendant dangling from a brand new chain.

“Jeweler Jesse had one more chain left. I’m doing a commission for him in return.” He watched the saddest of smiles spread over her lips, watery blue eyes fixed on the item. “Is it…okay?”

She nodded as she looked up and held it out by the clasp. “Will you…?”

“Of course.”

Chloé lifted her hair and leaned forward for him to slip his hands behind her neck, locking the necklace in place. “That’s better,” he whispered, taking in the sight of her with her messy hair, stubborn makeup, and loose fitting tank top, all looking right again with the re-addition of her necklace.

She looked down and placed a hand over the pendant—over her heart.

Then the tears started to fall.

“It’s from my father,” she whispered. “He bought it in the hospital gift shop the day I was born.” Her voice caught then, and he could only watch as the woman curled in on herself, shoulders hunched and shaking with quiet sobs. She fell against him, hiding her face in his t-shirt, and Nathaniel wrapped his arms around her. That was about all he _could_ do. This was far from the first time he had witnessed her crying—and it probably wouldn’t be the last—but it was still absolutely heart wrenching. He held her tight. “I can’t believe—,” she hiccupped, “—it’s been—so long.”

Cradling her head to his chest, he rocked back and forth in a steady rhythm and whispered, “me neither.”

* * *

Day 18 of the apocalypse. As Nathaniel had scribbled down the tally that morning, a drop of water had landed in the bottom left corner of the page.

Now he and Chloé sat together shoulder to shoulder under the biggest tree they could find as rain battered down on them. They hadn’t been able to find food for two days, their clothes were soaked through, it was getting colder with each passing minute, and all he could think to do was continuously rehearse the dates in his head out of fear that even if he survived, his waterlogged sketchbook may not be legible after this.

_Day 18 of the apocalypse. The apocalypse hit on the 13 th of March, 2020. That makes today the 31st of March, 2020._

Somewhere deep inside, some small part of him that wasn’t too bitter for humor laughed at the thought that the apocalypse could end tomorrow as the biggest April Fool’s joke the world had ever seen.

Chloé sneezed beside him and shuddered, drawing her knees up to her chest in an effort to conserve whatever warmth she could.

No, this wasn’t going to end tomorrow. He doubted it would end in his lifetime, if ever.

That is, assuming his lifetime extended beyond the next few hours as he inevitably froze and/or starved to death.

“Where do you think we are?” Chloé asked, voice low, somber, and barely audible over the roar of the rain on the leaves.

“I don’t know.” He left it at that and continued rehearsing the dates in his head, not caring too much for conversation with his school bully in what could be his final moments.

Still, the blonde went on. “We were headed east, right? To try and get further inland?” He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and closed his eyes with no response. “I w-wonder if we’re in Germany now. It’s been a long time since w-we’ve seen any other people.”

Annoyance bubbled up in the back of his mind, kicking and screaming to tell her to shut up, or say that she’s stupid if she thinks they’ve walked far enough to possibly be in Germany. Maybe even go off about how it didn’t matter where they were because the world was over and they were going to die anyway.

But none of that came to the surface. On the outside, he remained still. He didn’t have the energy or desire to keep fighting her, especially if he was going to die. The cold was very quickly seeping away his bite. In fact, the calm it was bringing was even pleasant in some ways. Relaxing.

_Apocalypse hit on 13, March, 2020. Day 18. 31, March, 2020. Day 18. 31, March, 2020. Day 18…13 th of March…2020…_

“N-Nath!” He jumped as her elbow jabbed into his side, eyes popping open.

“What?!” he asked a little too sharply, finally looking at her. He bit his tongue as soon as he met her eyes. That bright blue that usually stung had turned to a sadness that was perhaps the most genuine expression he’d ever seen on her—or maybe _anyone._ She sat with her arms held tight to her body, sandwiched between her chest and legs, and she hunched in on herself to keep her sweater covering as much as possible. Worst of all, she was shaking, shivering at an almost violent rate.

“Y-You were f-falling as-s-sleep.”

He pressed his lips together, looking back and forth between her eyes. He didn’t know what to make of them. She was looking at him like… Almost as if she were pleading with him not to leave her alone.

She was scared.

When he didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her with a blank expression, she turned her head and shrank in on herself again, eyes glazing over as she watched the rain. Her body continuously shook in its last ditch efforts to stay warm and Nathaniel wondered if the reason he wasn’t shivering was because he ran warm or because his body was already resigning itself to death.

Without seeming to realize what she was doing, Chloé leaned more into him, body seeking whatever warmth it could get.

“I don’t think we’re in Germany,” he said calmly. She shuddered particularly hard and it took him a moment to realize that was probably something of a laugh. “Chloé.”

“Hm?”

He put one hand on her shoulder and nudged her toward him. “Come sit between my legs.”

“W-What?” she asked, raising her head to look at him in a confused and mildly offended expression that looked much more familiar on her face.

“For warmth,” he said, voice staying in the tired monotone it had found comfort in. “I have a really warm core. It’ll help.”

She stared at him, confused and scared, and continued shaking in place. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a heavy guilt settled in as he realized that she was genuinely shocked at his willingness to do anything nice for her. Just about every word out of her mouth for weeks had been met with hostility, and any sort of cooperative behavior he displayed had been sheerly out of necessity. He had been so bitter for the last 18 days about the world being over and him being stuck with the one person he hated the most that he had also been antagonizing and pushing away the only person he had.

“Come on,” he said, nudging her again. “You’re shivering.”

She didn’t say anything, nor did her expression really change, but she did as he said. His skin protested as he opened his arms and legs to let her in, simultaneously granting entry to the stinging air. Chloé curled up and pressed herself sideways against his chest as much as she could while he wrapped his arms and legs around her. A chill settled over him at first contact with her cold, wet form, but as the minutes went on, a slight warmth spread over them and her shaking calmed. He eventually lay his cheek down on the crown of her head, using her wet hair as a pillow and curling up around her.

“We’re going to die,” she said in a voice so quiet he wouldn’t have been able to hear it if he wasn’t so close.

He tightened his grip on her and stroked his thumb over her shoulder, unsure of what to say to that.

“I don’t want to die.” Her body shook again then, but she wasn’t shivering this time.

She pressed her face into his chest and he could just barely feel the warmth from her tears add to the dampness of his shirt.

He couldn’t say anything. She was right. They were going to die. Less than an hour had passed since the sun set. The night was only going to get colder and the storm wasn’t anywhere near letting up. They were soaked through, freezing, and starving.

They were going to die.

Nathaniel held her as tight as he could manage and stayed like that, frozen muscles locking in place around her. He closed his eyes and just listened. Listened to the rain beating down on puddles, on mud, on leaves. Listened to Chloé sobbing, then crying, then breathing. Then he felt. Felt the girl curled up in his arms, scrunching and releasing the fabric of his t-shirt in a steady rhythm that matched his slow heartbeat. Felt the fresh rain drops that continuously pricked the back of his neck and ran under the collar of his shirt. Felt the frigid water that had sunk deep into his clothes and skin. Felt the steady rise and fall of Chloé’s shoulders as she breathed slow and deep…

_“Avery, if you got us lost again, I swear—,”_

_“Okay, in my defense, new trees are popping up daily. And we are not lost; the campground is right over—!”_

_“Avery, what—! Holy shit, are they—?”_

Nathaniel jolted awake—making Chloé jump in the process—as something suddenly prodded his shoulder. His head whipped up and he reared back immediately, clutching Chloé tightly as he was greeted by a stranger’s face mere centimeters from his own, big brown eyes staring at him in surprise. Even though they probably looked fairly normal usually, they were a daunting sight with lightning striking in the background, outlining the silhouette of their garishly yellow rain coat.

“Oh my goodness, they’re alive! Genevieve!!” the person called, looking back over their shoulder. Nathaniel could hear the splashing of footsteps as another person ran forward. The first person turned back to look at him and Chloé in turn. They opened their mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. They looked just as unsure in the situation as he was.

“You two look like you could use some help,” the other person said as they approached, clearly a more eloquent person than any of them. They wore an identical long yellow rain coat, but towered nearly a foot over their companion. They offered a friendly smile. “Why don’t you come with us?”

* * *

Day 48 of the apocalypse had begun like any other since joining the circus. Nathaniel woke to the sound of someone practicing their instrument around the campground (alarm duty that morning had fallen to Fiddler Lindsey who liked to play while dancing around on her feet), marked the tally in his sketch book, woke up the grumpy so-not-a-morning-person beside him, got up and put his work clothes on, and then he and Chloé ate breakfast together before getting to their jobs helping prepare for the next show.

Day 48 ended not with the quiet meal that he and Chloé usually ate alone, but sitting around a campfire with a group of the younger performers using up the rest of the marshmallows before they went bad.

“Cotton candy,” Rachel proclaimed as she tested the squishiness of the marshmallow at the end of her stick.

All around the fire rang a chorus of groans while one voice—Avery, sitting on Rachel’s right—yelled, “Are you fucking serious!?” Nathaniel turned to Chloé with his eyebrows raised in silent question, only to find her looking back at him puzzled as well.

 _“How?”_ Jillian chimed in, her bob of wheat-gold hair bouncing as she rocked forward. Rachel shrugged with wide doe eyes as she popped the marshmallow in her mouth and Avery shook their head in dismay, black fringe bangs falling in their face.

“I don’t get it,” Chloé spoke up. “What’s wrong with cotton candy?”

“Nothing is _wrong_ with cotton candy, exactly,” Avery began, brown eyes turning to her. “But keep in mind, this is a circus.”

“Which means we’ve all had a good deal of cotton candy,” Jillian continued.

“For basically our entire lives. At least, those of us who grew up here,” Jillian’s twin brother, James, finished next to her.

“Which I did not, by the way,” Rachel defended.

“But you’ve been here since you were 18!” Avery argued. “How are you not sick of it yet!?”

“What can I say? I love the stuff. And I will now forever miss it,” she sighed dramatically.

“You can still make it though, can’t you? It’s kind of hard without the cotton candy machine, but not impossible, right?” Chloé asked. Rachel perked up with excited brown eyes and turned to Avery, who pursed their lips and glared back at her. “Oops,” Chloé muttered under her breath. Nathaniel chuckled, the only one who heard it. A moment later he handed her the stick with two toasted marshmallows on it so he could prepare the graham crackers and chocolate while they watched the scene between the two dancers play out across the fire.

“Avery, is that true?”

“Maybe?”

“Oh my goodness!” she exploded, softly punching her friend’s arm. “You lied to me!”

“Did I lie to you? Or was I saving the surprise for your birthday?”

“Were you?” Rachel deadpanned, clearly not buying it.

“No,” Avery admitted. “I lied to you.”

“Betrayaaallllllll.” Nathaniel inwardly laughed, wondering if Rachel’s weird monotone in that moment was supposed to be a reference to—

“Oh!” James jumped in, “That’s what I miss! Bee and Puppycat!”

The redhead smiled as he caught several people around the fire nodding in agreement.

 _“What’s Bee and Puppycat?”_ Chloé whispered as he handed her a s’more. He leaned in and lowered his voice.

“It was an online cartoon. Whimsical and funny, good for bingeing.” The blonde rolled her eyes a second later and he thought he heard her mutter something about them being “fucking nerds” right before biting into her s’more.

He smiled and watched her, wondering when her sass had turned into something he enjoyed rather than loathed.

“What about you two, whispering conspiratorially over there?” Avery’s voice suddenly broke in. Both he and Chloé snapped to attention as they realized everyone had turned toward them.

“What?”

“What do you two miss from the old world?”

He looked at the woman on his left and she looked at him, conveniently taking a bite so he would have to answer first. He narrowed his eyes at her and she smirked.

“I guess for me, probably my drawing tablet,” he began. “And all of the art I had saved on my computer and online. Man, going digital really screwed me over,” he lamented, more to himself than the others. He hadn’t really stopped to think about the sheer quantity of work that was now completely lost to time with no proof of it ever existing. Technology was little more than a distant memory now, which meant just about all of his major works from at least the past seven years were…less than dust. Data that ceased to exist the second the apocalypse began.

“Wait, you’re an artist?” someone asked. Nathaniel looked over three people to his right to see the speaker looking at him with wide green eyes. They were one of those classic birthday party magicians, pulling rabbits out of their hat and guessing people’s cards. What was their name again? Cami? Camille? Camila?

He nodded. “Yeah, I am. Or, I _was,”_ he corrected, dismally remembering his more recent track record.

“You any good?” Cami/Camille/Camila pressed. He got the distinct impression that their question was leading somewhere.

His only response was to shrug, never one to brag about his own art. He was surprised a moment later when Chloé spoke up beside him.

“He’s really good.” He blinked and slowly turned to stare at her in shock. Did he really just hear that?

She went on, paying him no mind. “He used to make comics that were stylistically in between manga and realism, and they were widely recognized around the city. But more than just digital stuff, he’s great with a bunch of mediums. Acrylic paints, watercolor, oil pastels, charcoal—hell, once he covered his notebook in a surreal sharpie design that looked like it was straight out of an LSD trip. Our school used to display his art all the time. It ranged anywhere from detailed nature scenes to that abstract shit that only art snobs like to look at. Didn’t you even have some pieces up in the local amateur galleries?” Those blue eyes finally turned to him them, and she immediately scowled. “Nath?”

He blinked. Oh no. What kind of face was he making?

“Uh y-yeah,” he stuttered. “Yeah, I had one or two up…somewhere…” He trailed off, still staring at her with wide eyes. He couldn’t even try to think of the names of those galleries because he was still trying to wrap his head around the mountain of praise he’d just gotten from _Chloé Bourgeois._

“Really?” Cam-whatever responded, sounding impressed. Nathaniel tore his eyes from Chloé to look back at them. “You know, we’ve been down a face painter for a while now, ever since our last one retired. It’d be nice to have someone to decorate guests’ faces again. You interested?”

Nathaniel’s throat closed up. In months past, the question would have been a no-brainer for him. But now that he’d had a somewhat stable lifestyle for a while and still hadn’t been able to bring himself to touch his sketchbook other than to mark the tally each day?

“I-I’ll think about it,” he said.

“Sho wait,” Rachel butted in, talking around the new marshmallow in her mouth. “You shaid aroun da shiddy, but,” she paused to finish, “what city? I just realized I never asked where you two are from.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chloé stiffen the slightest bit.

“We’re from Paris,” he said cautiously.

One by one, the group stilled. A couple marshmallows caught fire as heads slowly turned. He suddenly grew very aware that every pair of eyes sitting around that campfire was focused on him and the woman next to him.

“No way,” Jillian whispered, voice just barely carrying over the silence.

Two more seconds of thick silence passed before James spoke the question everyone was wondering. “Were you in Paris when The Big Bang hit?”

“Um… Yeah.”

And just like that, the floodgates burst open. Suddenly everyone seemed to be speaking one right after another in a long string of dialogue, questions and theories overlapping left and right.

“What happened when the EMP went out? Were there a ton of car crashes?”

“No no, if they were in a city they would have gotten an earthquake first, wouldn’t they?”

“I thought it was both?”

“But wouldn’t the Seine have flooded?”

“That was only the oceans, wasn’t it?”

“There are parks in Paris though, right? How fast did the plants start taking over?”

“Were there bombs planted in the popular landmarks?”

“The bombs were only in the really old places, weren’t they? Like Notre Dame?”

“I thought the bombs were placed recently by the North Koreans?”

“I heard it was neo-Nazis.”

“I still hold that they were pre-planted by aliens thousands of years ago.”

“One guest told me it was lizard people and honestly, their proof was kind of scary.”

“I think it was the illuminati. No one else would have the vast spread of power to be able to plant bombs worldwide.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, there were no bombs.”

“Yeah, it was Mother Nature taking back what’s hers.”

“Or was it aliens sick of seeing how we’ve been treating the planet?”

“Either way, it wasn’t bombs.”

Nathaniel turned his attention from the argument unraveling in front of him to look at Chloé. Her hardened blue eyes were focused on the burning flames in the center of it all and her lips pressed together in an unyielding expression. She was absolutely still, muscles locked, and he noted her knuckles turning white in the fist at her side.

Slowly, carefully, he slid his hand across the few centimeters separating them and settled it over the top of hers, stroking his thumb calmly across her skin. She showed no reaction at first, not even a flinch or a blink. Then, slowly, she turned her hand so that her fingers interlocked with his and held on tight.

“So?” a single voice asked, breaking the long stream of conversation. They looked up to see everyone watching them with vested interest. “What was it like when The Big Bang hit Paris?”

* * *

Friday the 13th. It was Friday, the 13th of March. Because of course it was. Because on what other day could he possibly be stuck in detention after school with Chloé over an argument that _she_ started? Especially considering it was two days after his birthday, when he was really excited to be out of school for the week and finally have his birthday party with his friends staying up all night binge watching his favorite animes. Of course it was Friday the 13 th.

Nathaniel sat at his desk at the back of the room, a bored look on his face and his cheek slumped in the palm of his hand as he watched the seconds tick by on the clock. At least it was more interesting than watching Madame Bustier grade papers or Chloé pick at her nails now that she’d been told to put her phone away.

 _3:03pm. Detention began at 3:00pm. We’ve been in detention for 3 minutes and 28 seconds. 26 minutes and 32 seconds left. 31. 30. 29. Is this still more interesting than watching Madame Bustier grade papers?_ He glanced at the teacher as she diligently focused on the ink and paper before her. _Yep. 26. 25. 24. What about Chloé and her nails?_ He glanced at the blonde, who appeared to have moved on to her left hand. _Yep. 21. 20._...The second hand stopped moving. The clock literally chose that exact moment to break. _Great. Now the clock isn’t even interesting to look at._

A rustling drew his attention to the front of the room. It looked like Madame Bustier was looking for something in her purse. She frowned and clicked the button on her phone one last time before standing up. He assumed it was dead and she had misplaced her charger or something.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Don’t leave.” Then she walked out.

She was probably still within hearing distance when Chloé decided to raise her annoying, nasally voice. “This is all your fault you know,” she spat, turning around in her seat to stare daggers at him.

“How?” he retorted. “I was minding my own business when you decided to just walk up and start picking on my sketches!”

“Oh please, I was doing you a favor; you’ll never get into art school with work like that.”

“I’ve already been accepted to art school, Chloé! I told you that earlier! What the hell is your pro—!?”

He was cut off by the sound of a car crash on the street outside. They both stood and were about to go to the window to look when the floor began to shake underneath them. The blonde audibly gasped.

“An earthquake!?”

Nathaniel had only ever been in one earthquake before, but it was nothing like this. At that time, it just felt like someone had turned the concrete to its vibrate setting for a few seconds. But this? The desks were bouncing. He tried to take a step and immediately lost his footing. A ceiling tile fell in the corner of the room.

And they were on the second floor.

“We have to get out of here!” he yelled, trying to be louder than the bully’s endless shrieking. He picked up his backpack and ran toward the front of the room, just barely keeping his feet underneath him as he stumbled down the stairs. Just as they started toward the door, they leapt back, Chloé screaming and gripping his arm as a mass of ceiling tiles and rubble came crashing down in front of them.

He immediately turned around and started toward the window. “Are you crazy!?” she yelled, pulling him back.

“Am _I_ crazy!? What, do you want to stay in this building until it flattens us underneath it!?” She didn’t say anything then, eyes blown wide as it seemed to finally dawn on her that their lives were in real danger. “Come on!”

He didn’t wait another moment before moving to the window and stepping through onto the tiny ledge underneath it. Down below him, he could see people running through the street in terror and what looked like several _separate_ car crashes. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat and tried not to think about how far down it all looked.

He glanced back to see the blonde clutching her arms close to her chest as she watched the chaos down below. “Chloé, come on!” Her attention snapped to him. Those bright blue eyes were suddenly riddled with fear like he’d never seen before. “We have to go,” he said a little softer. She nodded and clambered over the windowsill with shaky limbs.

“N-Now what?”

“We jump.”

“What!?”

“The bushes will break our fall,” _I hope._ “It’s our only option.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. “On three! One! Two! Th—,”

Her bloodcurdling scream was all he heard as a particularly strong shake rattled the building. Nathaniel’s heart leapt to his throat as he felt himself lose his footing, and then his grip on the window. And then, nothing. Absolutely nothing separated him from the open air as he fell to the ground below.

The bushes scraped his skin and pulled his hair, but they did at least break the fall. He felt the air exit his lungs as his back collided with the ground, and he was sure his head would be hurting for days after this. He lay still and coughed for a moment, just trying to breathe again. Then, with a groan, he attempted to reorient himself. His right ankle had twisted uncomfortably, his left shin was throbbing, and both shoulders felt sore, but at least it seemed like nothing was broken.

Finally picking himself up again, he saw Chloé on her hands and knees beside him, coughing. Loose strands of hair fell in her face and she had clearly had the wind knocked out of her too, but she seemed otherwise fine.

Then he realized the ground was still shaking.

Behind them, the school building was slowly collapsing in on itself. He grabbed Chloé by the arm and started backing up, dragging her with him. Still coughing, she did her best to stumble along.

Gasping for air out in the middle of the street, the two stood and watched as Collège Françoise Dupont gave its last dying breath.

The ground was still shaking under their feet.

Nathaniel turned to look at the buildings surrounding them. Some of the smaller ones had already come down, but others were still crumbling. “Let’s go!” He started toward the park, thinking the wide open space would be safe from falling buildings. But then—

“Papá!!!”

—Chloé ran in the opposite direction.

“Chloé, wait!” he yelled, running after her. She was sprinting as best she could toward Le Grand Paris—toward giant buildings that were going to come down any second. He had just caught her arm when an uproar of screams and the sound of creaking metal in the distance drew their attention.

The Eiffel Tower.

Fell.

The shock from it hitting the ground rippled underneath them and what buildings had not yet come down crashed then.

_“Papá!!!!!”_

The ground was _still shaking._

Chloé ran, crying hysterically, in the direction of the hotel now in ruins. Nathaniel moved to stop her, but was distracted by the sudden splashing of her feet. Water coated the street. Had a fire hydrant been hit? He didn’t see a geyser anywhere.

Regardless, the water was rising. And _fast._

He ran after Chloé, trying to get her attention, but she was too focused on Le Grand Paris. It did seem, however, that the further they ran, the shallower their steps became. Whatever it was that the water was coming from must be behind—

The Seine.

The Seine was behind them.

“No way,” he whispered to himself, slowing and casting his gaze back behind him. Water was flooding the streets, just slow enough to react to it. People all around were climbing up trees and onto rubble to outrun it. But would it stop there?

They needed to get to high ground.

When he finally caught up to her, Chloé was hysterical, throwing rocks at the base of Le Grand Paris ruins in a feeble attempt to uncover whatever— _whoever—_ was inside.

Nathaniel couldn’t believe he was actually privileged in that moment to be an orphan.

Without a word, he grabbed her arm and started running as fast as he could _away_ from the Seine. She screamed and fussed, but it fell on deaf ears. Eventually, she shut up.

They ran.

They ran for what felt like ages. They ran until their footsteps no longer splashed. They ran until the screaming was far behind them. They ran until the shaking stopped.

Their adrenaline hit its end near the top of a hill and they collapsed, heaving through dry lungs. Then the two finally looked back.

Paris was gone.

In its place was nothing but flooded ruins.

* * *

Day 20 of the apocalypse. Even without his phone to tell him what time it was, Nathaniel was certain midnight had long passed and that it was officially no longer April Fool’s Day. The raging party outside had slowly dissolved throughout the night, finally quieting altogether over an hour ago, but Nathaniel still found himself wide awake, staring at the dark ceiling of his tent.

He was exhausted. Completely and utterly exhausted, both from the tiring night of festivities and the fact that he had barely slept a wink for the past three weeks all the while trying to survive the end of the world with his school bully.

Former school bully.

Chloé was his ally now, he reminded himself. Officially his ally, and the only person he could definitely trust at the moment.

 _Plus,_ he had to admit, _she isn’t all that bad._

That day he and Chloé had walked about the camp to try and get the lay of the land, and had eventually decided it best to sit down off to the side after getting in the way of more than one performer trying to prepare or rehearse something. They took to watching the colorful characters who passed them by, speculating on what their acts might be, a game that slowly grew to creating entire life stories about each person they saw. It was nothing profound, but it passed the time, and it was even fun once they got into a rhythm.

Then Genevieve had arrived and handed them each a clean change of clothes, telling them to go wash up before they opened the gates.

When they met up again, Chloé’s ponytail was finally back to the platinum color he knew it to be, her face completely fresh and clean of any dirt or makeup for the first time he had ever seen, the pendant around her neck sparkling like new, and she looked warm and elegant in a grey sweater and a pair of faded blue jeans that didn’t quite fit right. She seemed a bit uncomfortable in someone else’s clothes—at least, more uncomfortable than he was in the dark blue button up and jeans that only stayed on because of the belt he had been handed—but she loosened up a bit when he offered his arm. Then, arm in arm, they entered the circus as any other audience members.

It was an absolute spectacle, even before the main show. The camp was set up such that a long walkway made its way from the front entrance to the main tent, so that when guests entered, they were treated to an introduction of smaller acts as they walked to the main event. Nathaniel recognized the unicycle joker from that morning traversing their way up and down the path, juggling something different each time they passed. He also saw that the baby elephant he had seen on its morning walk was just one of several baby animals that made up a petting zoo for kids. He and Chloé had watched and laughed as the elephant keeper tried to help a toddler stay upright while riding on the back of the baby elephant. (The kid fell a total of seven times, but Chloé had praised the little tyke for never crying and being brave enough to keep trying).

Then, almost as if they were a hive mind, the performers were all at once ushering guests into the main tent to get them seated for the show.

The show itself was absolutely marvelous. Tightrope walkers, lion tamers, acrobats, and more. Each of them incredibly skilled at their trade, and all led by Genevieve, a fearless ringleader. That loud, charismatic persona that she wore constantly was amplified tenfold in front of the audience, and her smile brighter than ever.

Nathaniel sighed and turned to look at his sketchbook on the bedside tray table. He hadn’t been able to draw much of anything since the apocalypse hit, those stupid flower sketches being the last time he had tried. Sure, he hadn’t had many chances having been on the run so much. But even in those moments when Chloé had been sleeping and there had been light…

He had _tried_ to draw.

But it just didn’t feel right. Not with the end of the world going on.

Yet there they were, these performers— _artists_ —continuing on with their trades as they always had. As if nothing had changed.

Well, no, that wasn’t exactly correct. They weren’t performing as if the apocalypse hadn’t happened. If anything, they were performing _because_ the apocalypse happened.

“The people in this world now are lost,” Genevieve had told them later that night. “Their entire way of life has literally come crumbling down, and they’re just trying to survive. They’re sad, they’re scared, and they don’t have anything to hold on to or anything to keep them going. That’s where we come in. Now don’t get me wrong, our way of life certainly wasn’t unaffected by The Big Bang. We were pretty reliant on modern technologies. But at the same time, we were used to a life on the road, and being self-sustaining one way or another. Where others drowned, we were able to float. And now, we bring what we can to those who need it. Our gates are open to anyone who wishes to enter—money is a commodity of the past after all—and we give them a night of youth and joviality as they try to stay afloat. We bring smiles to starving children’s faces and grant a moment’s relief to struggling parents.”

“You boost morale,” Chloé had finished for her.

“Exactly. Really, that’s all we’ve ever done. Brought joy and entertainment to those who needed it. But now, people need it more than ever.”

Nathaniel had known those words to ring true in the faces of each and every audience member that night. Looking around the stadium, he saw people cheering with everything they had, people laughing as if they had never heard a joke before, and more than one person smiling in absolute joy as tears tumbled from their eyes. It was like the show opened the floodgates for a huge exodus of emotions in every guest, leaving them relieved of their strife, at least for the night. Indeed, the show meant the world to those guests, and the performers gave them everything they had—performing like there was no tomorrow—each and every time.

That night, after the circus was over and the guests were gone, he had seen it in every performer as they danced together: the end of the world.

The entire world had come crashing down around them and now they danced, not because dancing was the solution, but because there _was_ no solution. There was nothing that anyone could do about the world being over, so they didn’t dwell on it. They danced. They let go of the world they knew and embraced the chaos and unpredictability of the one in front of them, harnessing this moment of joy for their own.

When Genevieve had urged him and Chloé to go dance, Chloé had surprised him by jumping up first and offering him her hand. In the moment he had credited the punch and her lightweight body. But in hindsight, perhaps it was because she, too, was learning to let go of the world they had left behind.

It didn’t take a genius to know that having been the daughter of the mayor and the richest man in Paris, Chloé must have grown up under pressures and rules and regulations that most kids had never known. Just from watching the news alone he knew there was a great deal of attention always on her, and a great deal of expectation that came with it.

But now that world was over. Now there was no society forcing her to be a politician’s daughter, or to inherit a giant business. She was out in a meaningless, structureless world, struggling to survive and no longer living in the constant comfort of luxury, but she was also free. Just like the circus performers, unrestricted and free to enjoy what moments she had. Free to dance.

So maybe it wasn’t just the punch and little tolerance that drove Chloé to dance that night. Maybe it was her harnessing her own future and living for the moment. Maybe it was her realizing that the end of the world may not be all that bad after all.

And as he’d taken her hand, Nathaniel had thought that maybe he ought to start realizing that too.

_“Nathaniel?”_

The redhead sat up in his bed, wondering if he had imagined it. The voice had been so quiet, so meek, that he wasn’t sure if—

“Nathaniel?” the voice asked again, a bit louder this time. Was that Chloé? Outside his tent?

He quickly got up and went to go open the curtain. Sure enough, Chloé Bourgeois stood on the other side, looking up at him with big blue eyes. She wore the same clothes from earlier that night, but now her hair was down, the soft moonlight shining off of it as it draped smoothly over her shoulders.

“Chloé? Are you alright?” He glanced around them in worry, but saw no signs of danger. Then he looked back at her and saw her mouth open nervously.

“I…” she trailed off and looked down at the ground. Then, so quiet he could barely hear her, she said, “I don’t want to be alone again tonight.”

He sighed, and a strange warmth and relief settled in his chest. “Me neither,” he admitted. “Come on in.”

Moments later, they were both laying down on Nathaniel’s cot, toeing a delicate line between keeping space between them and falling off.

“Um, Chloé?”

“Yeah?”

“I-Is it okay with you if— I-I mean it might be easier if we—,”

“If we cuddle?”

“Yeah…” He was glad it was so dark in the tent, because he was pretty sure his cheeks were trying to match his hair in that moment.

Without another word, Chloé turned so that her back was to him and they came together with one of his arms tucked under the crook of her neck and the other draped over her waist. Her feet brushed against his and he automatically flinched from their frozen touch.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m always cold.”

“Actually, it’s kinda nice. I’m really warm,” he said. Then he moved his feet forward to press them more firmly against hers. She let out a small huff that he thought was a mixture between a sigh and a laugh, but she settled against him nonetheless.

“You remember that fire dancer tonight?” she asked.

“Which one?”

“The lead, Rachel. Indian. Shaved side. The rest of her hair dyed pink.”

“Right, that one. What about her?”

“She saw us dancing tonight. She wants me to join her act.”

Nathaniel smiled. So it wasn’t his imagination or the punch that made Chloé seem like a really good dancer that night.

“Do you want to be a fire dancer?”

Chloé shrugged. “I don’t really know what Genevieve has planned for us. But I have always liked dancing.”

“Yeah, you seemed to enjoy it tonight.” She groaned and Nathaniel couldn’t help but laugh.

“I had too much punch,” she corrected.

He rubbed her arm in a mindless comforting gesture. “Don’t worry. The rest of them had at least three times the amount we had.”

“Yeah, seriously. They were drinking like it was the end of the world.”

The two of them paused as that sentence sunk in.

Then, Chloé chuckled. Just the slightest bit, but her body shook with it. Soon, he was chuckling too. And then they were laughing. They were laughing and they couldn’t stop. Their laughter grew and grew until they were both laughing so hard they had tears coming out of their eyes. Or maybe they were crying too. Crying and laughing.

Either way, they needed it.

* * *

Day 114 since The Big Bang. Nathaniel had decided to do the math and figure out the date that morning when he had drawn the next tally because he wanted to know what day in the year had the audacity to be that ridiculously hot.

As he was getting ready for bed at the end of the night, however, he couldn’t remember the date he had calculated that morning, other than the fact that it was sometime in July. He could probably remember if he tried hard enough, but focusing on much of anything had been a bit hard all night. At least, focusing on anything other than…

Nathaniel had just finished unbuttoning his shirt when the curtain into their tent opened. He immediately turned his head to look at the woman standing in in the doorway, pausing with his shirt hanging open.

Why did it feel so weird to have those blue eyes on him in that moment? So _different?_ She had seen him nearly naked every day for months. She lived with him. They shared a bed. They were friends. Nothing had really changed, right? It was just him…wasn’t it?

Earlier that night had been Chloé’s debut. After months of vigorous rehearsals and a couple minor burns, she had performed in front of an audience for the first time—albeit a small one since she was still only side act—as a fire dancer. And she was…radiant.

Rachel—lead fire dancer and obsessive collector of extravagant dance clothing—had gifted her one of her old performance outfits for the occasion. The slightly sheer fabric boasted a deep, vibrant blue that stood sharply against Chloé’s pale complexion. The top tied together behind her neck and her back much like a bikini top would, leaving her shoulders and waist completely bare, and the pants were open on the sides from the ankle to the upper thigh, leaving the legs almost entirely exposed.

He had seen her skin before. He saw a great deal of her skin every night before bed and every morning when they woke up. But he hadn’t seen her skin like _that._

A silver cuff covered her bicep and matching beads decorated her hair and the edges of her clothing, ringing like bells with every move she made. And her _moves._

They had been with the circus long enough to participate in a few dance parties, but he had never seen Chloé dance like _that._ As if the body rolls and the glistening sheen from the fire weren’t enough, the confident, daring, coquettish expression that she wore as she performed was nothing short of _murderous._

And it only made matters worse as her gaze occasionally fell on him throughout the night.

Nathaniel had wondered if Camille had placed his face painting station across the walkway from the fire dancing on purpose—he was pretty sure at least half the circus thought they were dating—or if it was just coincidence that he had a perfect view of her the entire night. But either way, as the night went on, he found himself hoping he could have that position again for every show.

Every time their eyes connected it was like electricity crackling over his skin. His nerves itched at the prospect of being near her. His soul ached to get closer. Her dancing displayed raw power and seduction in such a way that he never thought he would see from her and it was _incredible._

And it only grew on top of the admiration he had gathered for her over their time together. Her dancing that night was his breaking point. By the time the guests were going home, there wasn’t an ounce left of him that could deny his attraction to her anymore.

As they packed up the camp for the night, he could see that Chloé’s demeanor had mostly shifted back to normal—the intoxicating, alluring energy had been from the dancing it seemed—but now that she was stepping into the tent at the end of the night, Nathaniel swore that energy was back, and maybe even stronger than before.

She was absolutely radiant with the moonlight outlining her frame, casting a heavenly glow over her long, loose hair and the intermittent beads adorning it. The light caressed the edges of her skin—the slope of her shoulders, the contours of her arms, the curve of her waist—and even glistened off her thin layer of sweat from dancing in the night’s intense heat.

And those eyes—those smoldering blue eyes that burned right through him—glowed like azure embers in the night.

“Hi,” she whispered, and he couldn’t help but notice the way her chest rose and fell with the labor of long, deep breaths, light glinting off the pendant hanging from her neck.

“Hi,” he whispered back.

The curtain fell closed behind her and they were left alone with the light from their singular candle. Her silhouette grew clearer as she approached, and Nathaniel thought he had never seen a figure so beautifully complimented by a single flame.

“You were incredible tonight,” he heard himself say. She was close then. Unbearably close. She was within reach and his _everything_ was screaming to close what little distance was left between them. But he stayed absolutely still as she faced him head on and stepped forward so that she had to lean her head back to look him in the eye.

“You think so?” She asked, and the breathy tone of her voice threatened to pull him under. She was only centimeters away and she was looking up at him with those big beautiful blue eyes and with such an expression of dreamy wonder and…

He nodded, no longer trusting his voice as he remained locked in her magnetic field.

She bit her lip then, dragging it between her teeth in a moment of contemplation. “Nath?”

“Yes, Chloé?”

Electric, intriguing eyes.

“I’m going to do something. And I need you not to ask me any questions about it.”

Without so much as a moment of hesitation, he nodded. Because even if he didn’t know what was going to happen, he knew that he trusted her not to hurt him.

Then Chloé rose up on her toes and placed a gentle hand on his cheek, and Nathaniel closed his eyes as she pressed the softest, most tender of kisses to his lips.

A moment later it was gone and he was looking at her again. He was looking at her and she was looking back, both unmoving, both waiting. Wondering.

“I’m going to do something,” he said then, already snaking his hands up under her jaw, fingers threading through the hair at the base of her neck. “And I need you not to ask me any questions about it.”

She barely had time to nod before he pulled her into an equally tender, but charged, passionate kiss. She kissed him back fully and fervently, with a fire to match his own, and from the corner of the room, the candle watched as their shadows came together on the wall.

* * *

As the sun set on Day 363, Nathaniel draped an arm over Chloé’s shoulder and she settled into him, her head perfectly fitting under the crook of his neck. The two sat at a bench on the far edge of the campground and listened to the impromptu jam session the musicians were having behind them as they watched the sky paint the clouds pink. With the circus all set up and ready for tomorrow’s show, this was probably the last moment of peace they were going to have all weekend, and they were content to spend it just sitting there.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” Chloé whispered. “Feels like we were bickering in class just yesterday.”

“Nah, that was in Rachel’s tent.”

She chuckled and lightly smacked his chest with the back of her hand. Then he felt her movements still as something occurred to her. “Wait… Nath, when is your birthday?”

…

“It’s…today,” he realized.

“What?”

“Today is my birthday.”

 _“Well why didn’t you say so?”_ The two of them both jumped as a hand clapped down on each of their shoulders. They immediately sighed as they turned to see Genevieve leaning over them with that friendly smile of hers. “We’ll have to celebrate!”

“That’s really not necessa—,”

“Shush Nathaniel,” the ringleader interrupted, “It’s already bad enough that hers managed to slip by—which, by the way,” she turned to Chloé, who smiled sheepishly, “that’s not happening again, missy.” Her warm hands pressed the two of them even closer together as she stood up straight. “You two lovebirds stay here until sundown, then I expect to see you at dinner, got it?” They couldn’t even give her a _yes Ma’am_ before she was already walking away.

When he turned to look at Chloé again, he found her looking back at him with the same warm, bemused smile he was wearing. They immediately broke into light hearted laughter. “Looks like you got caught,” she giggled. Then she smacked his arm. “How come you didn’t tell me!?”

“I forgot to tell myself!” he defended, still laughing as he cradled the wound. “I barely ever keep track of the date anymore.”

 _“Nathaniel!”_ They both turned as the music suddenly stopped to see Genevieve leaving Jillian and the rest of the musicians glaring at them. “It’s your fucking birthday!?”

Chloé laughed some more. “You’re so fucked.”

He pursed his lips at her. “Just wait. You get to deal with this next year.”

Her previously sadistic smile shifted into a warm one then, ice blue eyes melting to calm waters in the evening glow. “I think I can deal with that,” she said softly. Then, reaching out to take his hand in hers, she turned and admired the circus tents behind them, complete with their extended family playing improvised music once again. “Nath?”

“Yeah, Chloé?”

“I think I want to stay here.”

He sighed, a peaceful smile taking to his lips, and squeezed her hand.

“Me too.”


End file.
